I Open At The Close
by Princess Ler
Summary: Rose Weasley is eighty-nine years old and has been diagnosed with Maskohydious Disease, which renders her due to die in a week. But on her final day, she makes an unprecedented trip to her attic that results in the finding of a certain watch. In her final moments, she opens the watch and when she wakes up, she is... Nineteen and blonde? Ten/Rose with a little Rose/Scorpius


**Just a little doodle I thought up last night that I may continue if I get good reviews.**

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, but I'm afraid that you are going to die soon," said the Healer as she bandaged the patient's arm. "We've diagnosed you with Maskohydius Disease. Normally it's not too harmful, but at your age..."

Eighty-four year old Rose Weasley merely nodded. She understood; her own elder brother had become a Healer.

"You have one week left to live," said the Healer, being careful not to touch the large grey splotch on Rose's left arm that signified the disease as she patted her patient's shoulder. "You should not feel too disinhibited throughout the week, but on your final day, the heart monitor spell will give out. We can't replace it."

"Is there anything you can do to help my children?" asked Rose softly, referring to her seven boys and single daughter. "They will be lost without me."

"Mum, we can take care of ourselves. If not, I can watch them. I _am_ forty years old after all."

Rose turned to see her eldest son, Ronald, standing up from his seat in the corner. Ronald walked over and hugged her as she started to cry into his shoulder.

"Ron... What about Hermione? She's barely twenty. Tell me that you can take care of her."

"Yes, of course, Mum," said Ronald softly, patting her back gently. "Definitely."

"No strange young men taking her to Quidditch games?"

"Of course not," said Ronald, smiling weakly as tears began to flow down his face as well.

He didn't need to lose another family member. Nearly all of his family was gone now- his Aunt Lily, his Uncles, Albus, Hugo, and James, and even his father, Scorpius. And now, his beloved, sweet mother, Rose Weasley, was about to go too...

"Come on, Mummy," said Ronald, roping a lanky arm around the woman and dragging her out of the ward. They rapidly Flooed back home, to where all seven other siblings (Hermione, Arthur, George, William, Theodore, Charles, and Percy) were waiting for them with bated breath.

"Well?" asked Theodore, the youngest boy.

Rose sighed and took her wand out of her pocket. It emitted several short, sad beeps.

"A heart monitor? Mum, does that mean-" started Hermione.

"Yes, Hermione," said Rose sadly. "I'm dying. Maskohydius."

* * *

The week went by, and on the final day, Rose found herself in the attic.

The attic was full of stuff she wished she hadn't seen. Old Malfoy heirlooms from her husband's family.

"I still can't believe my son married a blood traitor. I would have chosen a Mudblood over a Weasley any day!"

"Shut up, Lucius," she called back over her shoulder. "I'm about to die anyway."

She continued to walk through the attic until she reached the small chest that her mother had always cautioned her never to open. Now, she was about to die, and if she didn't open it now, she would never know...

One wizened hand brushed the varnished mahogany lid, sparking a flash of gold light... She squinted closer and saw the thinly inscribed words there: "I open at the close."

She laid her wand down next to it, allowing the soft, moaning beeps of the heart monitor to fill the air. The chest clicked open, revealing a lone gold locket inside.

Rose picked up the locket, marveling as some kind of disillusionment charm (her mother's work, obviously) washed away from the gold, revealing its true form: an old-fashioned silver watch covered in engravings.

_Why would Mum want to hide this from me? It's just a watch._

She reached out to push the button on the watch, trying to open it. But just as she touched the button, her wand gave one long, final, sad beep.

The watch clicked open.

The heart monitor quickened as one pulse became two.

Gold light filtered from through the watch, engulfing her, reviving her-

* * *

She woke up to blinding sunlight reflecting off of her voluminous blonde hair.

Voluminous? It had been ages since she had had _voluminous_ hair. It had been wispy and dead looking for the past thirty years.

_Blonde_? Rose Weasley was a redhead, last she recalled.

Except she wasn't Rose Weasley anymore. She fancied a new name... Thomas? No, too much like Uncle Dean... Trabitz? Too American. No, no. She liked something along the lines of... Perhaps... Rose Tyler, maybe?

**So, what do you think? Should I continue it or not? The choice is yours, tell me in a review!**


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